


A Brief Respite

by celtic7irish



Series: MCU Kink Bingo Fills 2017 [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, Just a fluff piece mostly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Phil closed the door behind him with a quiet click, shutting out the busy New York City traffic.  Taking a moment, he allowed himself to lean lightly against the door behind him and close his eyes, but just for a second, and then he was straightening up and toeing off his shoes before heading further into the apartment, removing his jacket and tie and dropping them casually over the back of his armchair.





	A Brief Respite

**Author's Note:**

> For the MCU Kink Bingo Square G1: Nick Fury x Phil Coulson

Phil closed the door behind him with a quiet click, shutting out the busy New York City traffic.  Taking a moment, he allowed himself to lean lightly against the door behind him and close his eyes, but just for a second, and then he was straightening up and toeing off his shoes before heading further into the apartment, removing his jacket and tie and dropping them casually over the back of his armchair.  Clint would have been aghast if he’d seen it, the normally pristine man rumpled and exhausted.  But Clint would probably never see him again, even if he did find out that Phil was alive.

“Long day?” a low, gravelly voice asked from the doorway to the kitchen.

Phil shrugged.  “Not longer than usual,” he admitted.  Then he grimaced.  “Reyes did manage to fry half the instruments in the cockpit, so we’re grounded until the system can be repaired.”  And yet, somehow, nothing that had been destroyed in the blaze had prevented them from landing safely.

“An accident?” his companion asked sarcastically, moving further into the room and resting a broad hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Phil gave his friend and lover a tired smile.  “Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” he answered truthfully.  Ghostrider would probably admit, smugly, that he’d done it just to get off the plane for a bit.  And while Robbie wasn’t exactly in control of the demon riding him, the Ghostrider usually didn’t come out to play unless there was terminal justice to be doled out.  Phil rather suspected that the sudden failure of the generator had more to do with Robbie’s interest in their resident hacker.  He seemed rather enamored with Daisy, and Phil honestly wasn’t sure whether he should encourage it or not.  He had to keep reminding himself that Daisy was an adult and could decide for herself if she wanted to be involved with Reyes and his demon.

“That would explain why you’re here, and not down in Paraguay,” Nick Fury replied neutrally, moving up behind Phil.

With a sigh, Phil allowed himself a moment to just lean back into the other man, letting Nick support them both.  He felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head and murmured appreciatively.  “Dinner?” he asked hopefully, though he made no attempt to move away.  Even if he couldn’t voice it yet, it was nice to be home for a few days, and nicer still to come home and have somebody waiting for him.

“ETA ten minutes,” Nick informed him with a wry grimace.  Phil chuckled; of the two of them, Phil was usually the one who cooked, even if it was only simple dishes.  Nick preferred to let somebody else do the cooking, though his paranoid personality usually meant that delivery was restricted to a small number of businesses and very specific delivery drivers, following a very thorough background check.

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s good to have you back,” Nick told him solemnly, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder before pulling away and prowling towards the front door of the apartment, where he’d wait for their food.  And woe be the driver that showed up even a minute late.  “Might want to get a quick shower,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Phil grimaced, but didn’t disagree.  Even with the amenities on the large military transport aircraft they called the Bus, a proper shower with heated water was something of a luxury.

Padding towards the bathroom on socked feet, Phil was grateful when he saw the towels on the warming rack and soft, comfortable clothes nearby.  Stark might tease that Phil had been born in a three-piece designer suit, but when he was home, Phil preferred to lounge around in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt that was big enough to hang off his shoulders.

Phil’s shower was perfunctory at best as he washed off the grime and exhaustion of several weeks of stress and frustration, chasing Inhumans around the world in the hope that they could get to them before more hostile parties did.  In the last three weeks, they had managed to save eight, but had lost another five before all was said and done.  This small reprieve was a greater relief than Phil was willing to admit in the face of those he had failed.

When he was done, he toweled himself off with the large, warm blanket, smiling when he realized that Nick had chosen his favorite one - a red, white, and blue one with Cap’s shield on it, and got dressed, sighing as the heated cotton slid over slightly damp skin.

Stepping out, he sniffed appreciatively, smiling when he realized that Nick had ordered food from the little bistro about two blocks away.  Their paninis were excellent, as was their wine selection.  “Capri?” he asked hopefully, walking into the kitchen where Nick was busy getting food onto plates.  Phil paused for a moment, then relaxed, tension easing out of his shoulders.  Usually, they didn’t bother with transferring the food to plates, preferring to just eat them out of the containers they came in, but it was obvious that Nick had something more specific in mind tonight, and Phil watched as the other man cut their paninis into smaller, bite-sized portions.

“Grab the wine and a couple of glasses, would you?” Nick murmured, focusing on the meal.  Phil did as he’d been asked, bringing everything into the living room and setting it on the table in front of the couch before pulling the table closer and then settling himself comfortably on the couch.  He was too old to do this on the floor, but they made do.

Nick handed Phil the plate when he came out, and Phil held it while Nick settled himself on the far side of the couch.  Nick took the plate back, and Phil scooted over, settling so that his back was pressed against Nick’s chest.  “Comfortable?” Nick asked with quiet amusement.  Phil hummed back, enjoying the closeness.  Most people only saw the gruff, paranoide exterior, but Phil knew better.  For those that Nick cared for, he was fiercely loyal and viciously protective.  He was also incredibly gentle.

Nick speared a bite of the panini on a fork and lifted it to Phil’s mouth.  Phil let his lips part just enough that the food could slide in, and he groaned in pleasure as the taste hit his mouth.  Capri Paninis were his absolute favorite, and Nick’s chuckle rumbled down Phil’s spine.  “It must have been a really rough ride,” Nick murmured, taking the next bite for himself while Phil chewed, enjoying the line of heat along his back and the outside of his legs.

“You have no idea,” he managed to mumble before accepting another morsel. “I feel like I’m running in circles with no actual goal.”  Phil really hated not having a plan.  Not that plans always worked - people like Stark and Thor tended to throw a wrench into the works just by existing - but he usually had a generalized idea of what he was getting into.  With the Inhumans, the plan was just to get there and then wing it and hope Daisy and her small team of fellow Inhumans could get the job done.

“You can’t save everybody,” Nick reminded him, holding up another forkful.  Phil frowned, and Nick pressed the fork against his lips, carefully.  Phil opened his mouth with a sigh, accepting the truth of Nick’s statement.  He was only one man with a small team of people with very little outside report.  Ever since SHIELD had collapsed under the weight of Hydra’s exposure, their influence had become negligible.  It would take time to rebuild the organization, and in the meantime, the Inhumans’ plight would not wait.

“Enough about that,” Nick decided.  “Sheila got a new cat.  She named it Thor.”

Phil relaxed at the obvious change in topic, knowing that Nick didn’t actually give a damn about how many cats Sheila had - she was up to nine now, he was pretty sure, and she kept naming them after Avengers - but that he was giving Phil something else to focus on, meaningless gossip.  A bite of salad was next, and Phil twitched at the sudden sharp taste of the house dressing.  Then it was back to the panini, and the occasional sip of wine, and Phil allowed himself to do what Nick wanted him to do.  He drifted, listening to the rumble of Nick’s voice without actually paying more than the barest attention to his words.  None of it was important right now, and while he’d be able to recall it perfectly later, there was nothing pressing about it.

Instead, he focused on the rise and fall of Nick’s chest where it pressed against his spine, the shift of muscle as the other man fed him small bites of food, or reached for one of the glasses of wine.  He wasn’t required to talk, or to feed himself, or to do anything but accept what was given to him.  It wasn’t a ritual that the two of them indulged in often, Nick’s impatience clashing with Phil’s need to have some sort of control over any given situation, but when they did, it was fantastic.

Eventually, all the food was gone, and Phil blinked slowly back to awareness.  Behind him, Nick hadn’t moved more than was necessary to put the plate on the nearby table, and his arms were now wrapped loosely around Phil’s waist, resting against the warm skin of his stomach.  It was quiet in the apartment, but it was a comfortable silence born of long-standing familiarity.  Soon life outside would intrude again, and Phil would start planning for the next rescue mission while Nick did whatever it was he did on the ground while Phil was away.  But right now, there was just warmth and a gentle touch and a full belly, and Phil allowed his head to drop back and rest on Nick’s shoulder.  “Better?” Nick asked him, and Phil hummed his contentment, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused.  

He felt a gentle kiss pressed against his temple, and then Nick was urging him off the couch.  Phil went without complaint, and Nick herded him towards the bedroom.  “Get some sleep, Phil,” he murmured.  “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Phil dropped easily to the bed, allowing Nick to manipulate his limbs as the other man pulled the sheets and comforters over him before leaving the room.  He left the door open, though, and Phil could hear him moving around in the living room and kitchen, cleaning up after themselves.  He vaguely felt like he should be helping, but his body was like a lead weight, heavy and unresponsive, and so he just let himself float there, occasionally dozing off only to be awoken by the clink of silverware against glass or the low murmur of the dishwasher.

After a short stop in the bathroom, Nick made his way back into the room and under the comforter.  Phil dredged up enough energy to roll towards him, and Nick hauled him the rest of the way in, his head coming to rest on Phil’s chest, over his heart.  Nick had confided in him once - and only once - that after Phil had come back, before they’d woken him from the medically induced coma, he had spent the better part of a day lying just like this, listening to Phil’s heart beat, clinging to an impossible miracle.

Nick’s weight pressed him a bit further into the bed, and Phil’s eyes drifted closed without his consent.  But that was fine; he was home, and they were safe.  The rest of it could wait until the morning.

He might not even write Reyes up for the inappropriate handling of agency equipment.

Probably.


End file.
